


Possibly Maybe

by TVateMyBrain (datsunblue)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic), Something Like This (Check Please fanfic)
Genre: Angst, I'm so sorry, M/M, PWP, Pining, Remix, Unbeta-ed, Unrequited, alternate POV, because i'm a spoiled brat who can't wait for the next installment, but really though?, i'm in too deep, shower wanking, the feels made me do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:23:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datsunblue/pseuds/TVateMyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A portion of Chaper 13 of" Something Like This", but from Eric Bittle's POV.<br/>Or, "What happened in the bathroom Bitty?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possibly Maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emma Grant (emmagrant01)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagrant01/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Something Like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6126172) by [emmagrant01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagrant01/pseuds/emmagrant01). 



> Ugh. So here is a thing that I wrote. Because of the feels. And because EmmaGrant01. And because "Something Like This" is killing us softly. Don't pretend you haven't read it. Because if you are in this fandom there is no way to avoid this beautiful beautiful fic that made my guts fall out on the page in such a messy manner.  
> I'm so sorry. I'm going to hell. (without a beta parachute)  
> Sorry sorry sorry.
> 
> Oh, also, disclaimer: Most of the dialogue is straight from "Something Like This" and I worked stuff in around it.  
> Also, my first fic in this fandom! Can't believe I've held off this long.

* * *

 

Eric is in bed. It's not his bed though. He's not sure how he knows this, so he cracks open his eyes a little.

Ugh. He was definitely drinking last night. He shifts his head a little to scan the room. Oh.

He's in Jack's room. In Providence. With Jack. Wait. With Jack? A quiet groan escapes him. Did he do something stupid?

  
A lot happened yesterday. Whits came out to his team, and scored a hat trick. And Eric found out that Whits had hooked up with Kent Parson. _So, those rumors about Kent and Jack......._  
Eric stops right there and takes a deep breath. _So, Jack might not be straight?_

  
He can remember clearly what a shock to the system that was. How it made him second guess every bro-fectionate gesture between them, looking for evidence of more, _anything_ more than bros. Oh. _Oh. Jack's fingers, shifting under the hem of his shirt_ , just for a moment there Eric really let himself pretend it _was_ more. But it wasn't, was it? Because if something was going to happen, it would have happened long before now.

Eric takes a deep breath. It's too early for his brain to be doing this much work. He inhales the smell from the pillow, and he realizes he must have fallen asleep on Jack's side of the bed, because _Lord_ that scent just hits him in the gut. It's Jack's hair, not just the smell of his shampoo, but _him_. The way his neck smells on a warm summer day when Eric hugs him. And oh dear, now he's got a semi. That's not exactly ideal right now. He looks over at Jack, who is on his back with the duvet pulled up to his chin, mouth parted just a little, eye lashes dark and soft against his cheek. Eric's cock twitches, and he stifles a groan and rolls sideways so it won't be so obvious he has a hard-on if jack opens his eyes.  
  
Which he does. Eric feels his face flush with heat.

“Ummm.” He manages. He's pretty sure he didn't cross the line last night, but this is....weird.

“G’morning,” Jack replies, shifting onto his side to face him. “You feel okay?”

Jack's eyes roam over him, a slight crinkle on his brow. The boy's hair is a delightful mess that Eric just wants to run his fingers through and tame.

“Better than I deserve to,” Bittle mumbles.

“You sure about that?” Jack stretches and the duvet slides down to his waist. He's shirtless and Eric almost chokes on his own tongue. There's something about Jack's shoulders that just …. Oh Lord. _In bed with a half-naked Jack Zimmerman. What am I like._

“Yeah,” Bittle says weakly. “I’ll be fine. How did I… uh…” He gestures vaguely between them.

“I think Shitty and Lardo walked you in here? You fell asleep on the couch.” Ok, he thinks he kind of remembers that now, and, oh. He remembers how good it felt to be curled up on the couch under Jack's arm. And that's not.... He's not supposed to..... He's meant to be getting past this, damn it! He's seeing someone else.

“Ah.” Bittle buries his face in the pillow again as the guilt hits him.

Jack gets up and heads to the bathroom. He's wearing nothing but a pair of those fitted blue and grey boxers that just about reveal the outline of his junk. A strange sound escapes from Eric's mouth, something between a laugh and a sigh, and he drags the pillow over his face to muffle it. He gives it a few seconds after Jack closes the bathroom door, then slips his hand into his shorts and squeezes. _Not now_ , he thinks, willing his erection down and steadying his breathing. _Not appropriate Eric Bittle. Get a hold of yourself. No not like that!_ He bites his lip. Distracts himself with other thoughts. It's ok. He can do this. He can bury these feelings like he always does.

 

After a while, Jack comes out of the bathroom freshly shaved and with his hair combed. He doesn't meet Eric's eyes as he crosses to the walk-in closet, which is a good thing, because Eric's eyes almost pop out of his head when Jack drops his boxers, and steps out of them before he quite gets through the doorway and around the corner. The way Jack's thumbs slip into the waistband and slide over his hips. The way the fabric slips over his skin to reveal the two stunning globes of Jack Zimmerman's ass, and his well defined thighs, makes all of the blood rushes to Eric's cock, and he has to ram his fist into his mouth to stop the groan that would give him away completely. This is too much right now.

Grabbing his sweatshirt from the floor, and clutching it in front of his groin like a shield, he crab-walks to the bathroom as quickly as he can. He turns the lock, double checks it, and leans against the sink, face in hands.

“Eric Bittle, what are you doing?” He whispers to his reflection. His face is still flushed, his cock still hard. He palms himself through his shorts, and closes his eyes. Deliberately he thinks of Kevin's wide smile and soft lips, and the way Kevin's fingers wrap around his thighs.

But then it's Jack he imagines, warm and solid against his back, holding him. Jack's arms looped around him, big hands pressed against his chest as his breathing speeds up. Jack's breath hot against his neck as he whispers _“Bitty.”_ Imagines it's Jack's hands and not his own that slip his shorts down over his hips and thighs, freeing his cock. Jack's fingers that trace from his iliac crest down to his high inner thigh, making him shiver.

His head tilts back, eyes closed, and a sigh slips out as he strokes firmly upwards with a twist at the head that makes his breath catch. He can hear Jack in the other room moving around. What if he unlocked the door and left it open a crack. What would Jack do? Would he stand and watch? Would he turn away, embarrassed? Would he come into the bathroom?

Eric turns away from that fantasy, and leans over to turn the shower on, and peel off his T-shirt.

Under the warm spray his thoughts spin in tighter circles as he touches himself. He's getting desperate now, closer to the edge. On the shelf is Jack's shampoo. He grabs it and flicks it open. He shouldn't, but he pours some into his hand. It's white and viscous, and smells like Jack. It feels so good, he rubs it between his fingers, and then into his pubic hair, and when he slides that hand back around his cock, it slips so deliciously than Eric has to brace himself against the tiled wall with his other arm. He spreads his legs a little and lets the warm water run down the crack of his ass, thrilling at the feeling that shoots up his spine. He's tugging hard now, cock dark beneath his fist, and it's Jack he wants, pressed up against his back. Jack's hands in his hair. Jacks fingers on his throat. Jack's tongue on him, in him. Jack's arms holding him anchored while he falls apart. It feels like he's being turned inside out and the sun is shining on his insides.

Fuck.

He comes against the shower wall, and stands there panting and catching his breath as he watches it washed down the wall, across the floor and down the drain. He wonders idly if Jack stands here like this too. If it's just a thin film of time that separates them. If just one dimension over from here, Jack is as gay as a maypole, and the two of them are happy together. Eric pushes his fingers against the wall and imagines he can reach through to there from here, and grasp happiness between his fingers.

He sighs heavily, because here, the politics of love are so messy and fraught with sharp edges. Here he uses friendship as a shield to protect his heart.

He grabs the soap and washes quickly, because he has to put this behind him, and get on with it.

 

Whatever it is.

 

 

 


End file.
